


𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒 𝑃𝑜𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝐷𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑜𝑛

by Adrenalineshots, sonshineandshowers, TheFibreWitch



Series: Domino 🁡 [25]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Caregiving, Case Fic, Digital Art, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Harassment, Health Emergency, Heavy Alcohol Use, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mental Health Issues, Metafiction, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Surrealism, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Video, a lot of really strange stuff that happens in altered states of consciousness, anxiousness, mixing, reader-driven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/pseuds/Adrenalineshots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch
Summary: Selecting 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒 𝑃𝑜𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝐷𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑜𝑛 from the bookshelf, Malcolm travels through his own mind.Read this story at:https://www.thedominostory.com/#the-complete-poems-of-emily-dickinsonThis book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read thePrefaceorIntroduction, please head there first.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo
Series: Domino 🁡 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926451
Kudos: 1
Collections: Domino 🁡, Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020 - Saturday Posts





	𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒 𝑃𝑜𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝐷𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑜𝑛

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/gifts), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/gifts), [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/685354) by Emily Dickinson. 



> This book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read the [Preface](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64577434#workskin) or [Introduction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588537#workskin), please head there first.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/), and [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/).
> 
> Credit to the creators and their works that inspired and were referenced in this work:  
>  **— Inspiration:**[The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson](https://poets.org/poems/emily-dickinson) \- Emily Dickinson  
>  **— Cover Song:**[Amazing Grace](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eeGVMY__-zs) \- Lyric, Emily Dickinson, Backing Track, Paul Lassey  
>  **— Assets:**[Stock Photo](https://www.uihere.com/free-photos/photo-of-forest-trees-756122)

[](https://www.thedominostory.com/images/full/the-complete-poems-of-emily-dickinson.jpg) |   
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“Could you wait here a second?” Malcolm asks.

“Death waits for no one,” Death says.

“You’ve been known to stop sometimes,” Malcolm argues. “You waited for Gil.”

“Your mother helped him,” Death says. “There are some factors outside of my control.”

“Could you stop for me?”

“I suppose.”

Rifling through his closet, Malcolm searches for his best tie. His best suit is already on overtop a favorite shirt. He just needs a finishing touch, and they can go onward.

“$10,000 suit?” Death asks.

“More. This one’s probably 40,” Malcolm says.

“Couldn’t the money have been used to help more people?”

“I do help people.” Malcolm has thumbed through a whole rack of ties from his mother, his sister, and a few of his own purchases. He can’t find the one he wants anywhere.

“What about the 25?” Death counters.

“25?” Malcolm pauses, the count higher than they’ve proved his father was connected to.

“You’re keeping me waiting when I could be telling you about The Surgeon’s other victims.”

An interesting proposal, sure, Malcolm always wanting to solve a case, but “I go with you, I’m dead.”

Death shrugs. “I am death.”

“Immortal.”

“Somewhat. Depends what version of the papers you read this week.”

The contents of a whole rack tossed through, Malcolm can’t find the tie Gil gave to him. He can’t go — can’t make the trip without him.

_Because he could not find Gil’s tie  
to be placed in the ground.  
He ate with Death dinner instead  
and turned the car around._

_The meal was brief, some shredded wheat  
Death found sure packed a punch.  
But flavor hid from Bright’s sweet tooth,  
he wanted Captain Crunch._

_When Death did knock some solemn pounds  
that shook the tired locks.  
Bright hit the floor, crashed through the door,  
landed on Gil’s clean socks._

“Bright?! What the — ” Gil shakes his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Malcolm throws up, spewing his stomach contents all over the floor. Gil turns his head, so he avoids choking, but he’s covered in vomit. Gil’s feet don’t seem to have escaped either.

Malcolm is moving before he knows it, he’s thrust into something hard, and then he’s hit with a full blast of water. The shower in Gil’s tub. Gil. “Gil?” he asks, his voice thick with confusion.

Gil is squeezing his shoulder super hard — it’s probably what’s keeping him upright. “What’d you take, kid?”

“Drinking,” Malcolm mumbles.

“What else?” Gil asks, a firmness in his voice that breaks through Malcolm’s fog.

“M’ pills. Sedative.” Malcolm’s head lolls, getting sick again. Gil’s fingers push at his neck, and he tries to squirm away.

“Anything else?”

“’t think so.”

Gil shakes him, and the world darkens. “It’s important, _Bright_.”

“Don’t know. Little.”

The paramedics ask him the same questions, but he’s far too out of it to respond, barely even comprehending what they’re asking to begin with. Darkness is more welcoming than their persistent hands.

* * *

They won’t let Malcolm go home. Not the doctors, not Gil. “Don’t call her,” Malcolm pleads, squeezing Gil’s hand. The last thing he needs is his mother added to this circus.

Gil agrees. For now. A blood alcohol content to knock out a man twice his size, the doctors tell him. It’s the drug cocktail he ingested with it they’re more concerned about.

“Was it — ” Gil starts to ask but stops, rubbing his shoulder.

Malcolm doesn’t know exactly what Gil is trying to ask — he’s stumbled over a few versions Malcolm has roughly interpreted as ‘what were you thinking?’ already. It wasn’t like someone else had fed the pills into his mouth. It wasn’t like he was trying to OD either. Also wasn’t really an accident. "I was reckless," Malcolm admits, hoping that will offer something to ease the frown on Gil’s face.

"What's going on?" Gil asks, finally forming a complete question.

It doesn’t exactly have an easy answer. “Is this Gil who can take away my job, or Gil my friend?"

Gil’s face softens. “Always your friend."

"I wanted silence. Time without the voices.” Malcolm looks toward the curtain, as there’s no window to escape to.

"You tell the doctor?"

Malcolm shakes his head. “They’re there all the time,” he says, his voice thick with frustration. “If I say that, they won’t let me leave.”

“What’s the alternative?” There’s compassion in Gil’s voice, a willingness to explore what Malcolm thinks is possible, yet his face echoes the concern of the past half-day.

Malcolm swallows, giving himself time to collect his thoughts so Gil will be less likely to shoot them down immediately. “I’ll call Gabrielle while you’re sitting there, sign out, and you can take me straight there.”

“And then?”

“Your couch? If it makes you feel better.”

“Your room’s always there, kid, but I’m not a medical professional. I’m not equipped to — “

“No one is.”

“That’s not true.”

“I don’t want to stay here. I’m not a threat to myself — “ Gil looks at him with a strong eye, pausing his speech. “Not actively. I just… need some extra support for a little while. If it’s too much of a burden — ”

“You’re not a burden. But that is a big responsibility I’m not sure I’m equipped to handle.”

“You’ve done it before. You’re the only one. Gil, _please_ ,” Malcolm pleads.

“You know I’m going to do what you want,” Gil says, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Please, I need you safe.”

“It was an accident. I won’t drink — “

“Kid, when you get agitated, even you don’t know what you’ll do. I appreciate you’re trying right now, but don’t promise something you can’t guarantee.”

“You’ll take me home?”

“To my house, yes,” Gil says. “After Gabrielle’s.”

“Thank you,” Malcolm says, pulling Gil into a crushing hug.

Gil’s car holds the two men as they drive toward a place of assistance. Malcolm’s fidgeting calms a bit now that they have left the hospital, and Gil’s concern dips to looking over at him every minute instead of every thirty seconds. “I’ll keep waiting,” Death says in Malcolm’s ear.

— ◌◯◌ —

Bright’s phone keeps buzzing from the side table. It’s inside of a bag the hospital staff had filled with his personal effects, removed in the expediency to get him stabilized. Muffled by the hastily crumpled suit jacket, it still tings off of what Gil imagines is his watch or belt. The watch Gil and Jackie gave him when he got word that he had been accepted into Quantico. One in rotation with many others more expensive but with far less personal significance. He only knows the kid wore it today because he saw it when taking the kid’s pulse.

Today? Yesterday? Someday. Time is a foreign concept in the unchanging scenery of the hospital.

Bright’s phone starts buzzing again as soon as it stops. Given the pattern from the past few minutes, it’ll probably keep going until Gil shuts it off. He stands and bends over to retrieve it, rifling through suit and shirt to find the phone buried in one of the shoes with Bright’s watch. Slipping the watch in his own pocket for safekeeping, Gil looks at the phone screen to figure out how to shut it off. Claremont Psychiatric stares back at him.

It’s not his phone. He should just shut it off and pretend like he didn’t see. But Martin is a parasite no one can get rid of that easily, seeking out every avenue until he’s victorious. “Why are you calling?” Gil answers, forgoing any pleasantries.

“You are not my son.”

“Lose the number,” Gil commands.

“Give me my boy.” 

The familiar itch of Martin’s voice invades Gil’s skin. He stays silent in protest of the request.

“I’ve seen the news. I know he was injured at a scene under _your_ tutelage — why anyone would trust their life to you is beyond me — “

“Stop.” Goddamn media. Between Bright’s father, sister, mother’s social status, and chosen profession, it seemed damn near impossible to keep any aspect of the kid’s life private.

“You’re not in charge here, Lieu-ten-ant A-rro-yo. Malcolm, _Malcolm_ — ” Martin raises his volume as if speaking louder would wake Bright from a coma. “Talk to dad.”

It’s the word _dad_ that lights the itch under Gil’s skin aflame, singeing away the protective layer that keeps his anger in check. “You’re not talking to him again,” he barks. He’s out of line saying that, but it’s a sentiment that’s been brewing since he brought Bright back in touch with his father to begin with. If Bright pulls through, it’ll likely be proven false and thrown back in Gil’s face. If he doesn’t… Gil doesn’t want to think about _that_ possibility.

He won’t tell Martin any of those things. He won’t leak any of the kid’s private medical information to his abuser. Martin keeps prattling on in the background, all of his words never being interpreted in Gil’s head. “Stop! Just stop!” Gil demands.

“Who is that?” Jessica asks. Gil’s eyes fly up to find a shocked look on her face. The recognition that follows tells him there is no concealing his anger — she knows who’s on the other end of the line. “ _Give me_ ,” she demands, reaching across the bed and ripping the phone from Gil’s hands.

Two clicks of her heels into the hall, “You son-of-a-bitch,” roars from her throat loud enough that the whole floor must have been able to hear. Gil rubs his eyes and drops his head into his hands.

Amidst the commotion, Bright is as still as ever. Gil shakes his head — what in the hell are they going to do?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Head back to the [Bookshelf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588570#workskin) to pick another book. :)


End file.
